


Advent of Healing

by Arithanas



Series: A Huckleberry Above My Persimmon [10]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Christmas, Christmas fic, Depression, Domesticity, Eliot's trying to be a good boyfriend, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Treatment and recovery, fifty shades of hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: Quinn added antidepressants to his treatment in his efforts to fight his depression. Eliot had been jumping from one European country to another, stealing as much time as he could to spend time with his boyfriend. Christmas, a special time for this couple is coming.
Relationships: Mr. Quinn/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Series: A Huckleberry Above My Persimmon [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607185
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Hope

Eliot punched up the numbers in the pad and pushed the door open. The department was still and dark. The dishes rested on the table and the empty was sink; Two or three meals. In silence, he cleared the table and put the dishes to soak. On the bright side, Quinn was eating even if he let go a bit of his usual mania for cleanliness.

Eliot hung his winter jacket inside of Quinn’s closet, next to Quinn’s winter coat. On his way to Quinn’s room, Eliot took out his dirty shirt and peeled off his jeans. The bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and out of place comforter, but it had some familiar lumps: Quinn sleeping on his side and his massive teddy bear. Eliot hadn’t met a more inviting bed yet. 

Eliot sat on the mattress and took out his socks, noticing how badly he needed a shower. He considered hopping into the shower, but he was tired. His gaze looked through the glass walls and wondered again why Quinn liked to live inside an aquarium. Eliot lifted the comforter in time to look Quinn push his bear to the other side of the bed with a sluggish stretch.

“Hey…” Eliot greeted and slid under the comforter.

“Hello, stranger,” Quinn mumbled and turned around. “Aren’t you supposed to be in _Wein_ in a couple of days?” 

Eliot looked into Quinn’s eyes and cupped his cheek. He placed a soft kiss on his cracked lips.

“I rather spend my time with you.”

“I’m not a good company right now,” Quinn protested but shifted to hug Eliot better. 

“Are the antidepressants giving you a rough ride?” Eliot asked and ran his fingers through Quinn’s hair.

“Too early to tell,” Quinn said and rubbed Eliot’s ribs. “I won’t be surprised if they do…”

Eliot mumbled and grabbed Quinn’s ass to pull him closer. Quinn inhaled hard and rested his forehead against Eliot’s chest. Eliot kissed Quinn’s crown. The rain was hitting the glass, but the sound was muted. Quinn yawned, Eliot caressed Quinn’s back.

“I’m sort of tuckered out.” 

“Grab twenty winks.”

“I shouldn’t,” Quinn protested, but his voice sounded drowsy. “I have a pole-dancing class today.”

“I’ll wake you up,” Eliot promised and closed his eyes.

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

The bathroom was huge. The first time Eliot entered he quipped that Quinn should send a rescue team if he didn’t hear signs of life in a quarter of an hour. 

The bathtub was enough for four men, the shower had three jets and a handheld one, plus toilet, plus bidet. The sink was a slanted slab of marble and the mirror was wide and tall. Last year, Eliot faced a steep learning curve; now, he just stayed under the hot stream and enjoyed that the water never got cold.

“Hey,” Quinn called Eliot’s attention. He stopped applying shaving cream to check his phone.

“What?” 

Eliot didn’t mean to bark, but the shower was his favorite alone time. He could see Quinn, already inside his blindingly white undies bend over the sink, in front of the mirror. Such an image was not a bad thing to leave the shower for. 

“Do you want to eat with Pavla?” Quinn asked because he knew Eliot might bark, but he seldom bites.

“Who?” Eliot inquired as he shut off the shower.

“My pole-dance instructor,” Quinn explained and squeezed a bit more cream out of the tube. “I commented you had business in Europe and they’d love to meet you.”

“I’d planned to run some errands while you were polishing the pole,” Eliot said and rubbed himself dry with one of Quinn’s fluffy towels. “I need heat holders...”

“You can buy them tomorrow.”

“I _need_ to wash them!”

Quinn mumbled his disappointment and kept rubbing the cream on his face for some seconds. Then he stopped and looked at Eliot’s reflection in the mirror. Eliot, worrying he had stepped on one of Quinn’s many sensibilities, stopped rubbing the towel against his balls at once.

“You killed someone with new underwear,” Quinn said slowly as he got up, “didn’t you?”

“What if I did?”

The question left his lips in a pretty defensive tone. Eliot looked at his image in the mirror and was rewarded by a slow, amused smile from Quinn.

“Relax,” Quinn said and looked at Eliot with raised eyebrows and big eyes. “I’m impressed.” Quinn selected one of his many razors from the rack. “Anyway, do you think you can squeeze a bit of social time?”

“Is this important, Quinn?” Eliot asked and wrapped the towel around his hips.

“It’s just…” Quinn leaned forward while he made the first pass. “They only know you for the puppy photo I had on my phone and I lost it when my father took it.” Quinn stopped and checked his work in the mirror. “It’s not like I need more people wondering about my mental health…”

Eliot walked to the sink and slapped Quinn’s butt in the precise instant the razor moved away from his face. Quinn stood up with a small, startled sound and turned on Eliot. Eliot kissed his lips and pressed his middle finger between Quinn’s cheeks. That movement never failed to elicit a silly smile on Quinn. Before the smile could evaporate, Eliot picked up Quinn’s phone, pointed it to the mirror, and snapped a snapshot.

“Here is the notch in your bedpost,” Eliot commented as he gave Quinn his phone back.

Quinn rushed to look at the picture while Eliot made some lather with the soap. Quinn's face moved from perplexed to happy and Eliot felt proud. No one was going to doubt his boyfriend’s sound mind with that intimate, candid proof.

“You know how to stage a photo,” Quinn commented and put his phone in a safe spot before returning to his shave.

“Professionally trained to do it,” Eliot admitted, extending his hand towards his disposable razor.

Quinn shaved in silence, Eliot rushed through it. They splashed water, patted dry, and went for the aftershave: Quinn used balm and Eliot, lotion. Then Eliot kissed Quinn again.

“Maybe next time we can dine with your friends,” Eliot said, enjoying the proximity. “I really need protective gear: I was sure I was going to freeze my balls off in this damned European winter!”

“Perish the thought…”

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

Eliot jumped inside his jeans to make sure his new underwear didn’t bunch or ride up in the most uncomfortable places. 

Quinn was still in bed, languid after a bit of afternoon delight. Today they didn’t get the eager, almost desperate passion they got used to. Antidepressants were messing with that part and Eliot lacked the appropriate words to reassure his boyfriend. Quinn said there was no problem, that he was expecting it. Eliot only whispered that this will pass.

“Can you do something before you go?” Quinn mumbled and turned to watch Eliot.

“What do you need?” 

Quinn didn’t reply. He got up and walked out of the room without bothering with his silk robe. Eliot followed him, out of curiosity. Quinn rummaged the closet by the door and took out four black security bars. The keys were still on the locks.

“I never had much use for these…” Quinn looked at the bars and tried to explain. “Living so high, it was unlikely someone was going to break through my balconies, but they came with the place, and…” Quinn noticed he was babbling. He stopped and looked right into Eliot’s eyes. “Please fit them to the sliding doors.”

“Are you sure?” Eliot asked and put his hand on the bars. Eliot was acutely aware of how much Quinn loved the rush of wind on his balconies.

“I know how my body reacts to drugs.”

Eliot nodded and took the bars. If Quinn needed him to play the handyman, well… Others had demanded worse from him. Without another word, Eliot went back to the bedroom, knelt down, and fit the bars. On the faint reflection of the glass, Quinn bent to pull his pajama pants ups. Eliot got up and kneel in front of the other glass sheet. His own face looked worried as it reflected back from the smooth surface.

Without comment, Quinn approached. He was still pulling his silk robe over his shoulders. Eliot got up and watched how Quinn tied to pry the sliding doors open. They didn’t budge a quarter of an inch and the seal blocked even the smallest current of the cold breeze. 

Eliot moved to the other sliding door in front of the couch. It was a smaller spot, but the view was better. Fighting the ache of those nights cuddling together on it, Eliot fit the first bar before Quinn joined him. This time, Quinn didn’t check the doors. Eliot got up and offered Quinn the keys. Quinn took them, thread them through a length of pull-chain.

“Here,” Quinn said, offering Eliot the makeshift collar. “Keep me safe.”

Eliot nodded, passed the chain over his head, and opened his arms. Quinn stepped in and accepted the hug.


	2. Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter includes an attempted blowjob.

Quinn entered the code and pushed the door open. The apartment was dark and the only thing that stopped it from being cold was the HVAC system. It was hardly an inviting place to be, but the first snow had been falling the whole day and he had no other place to go. He took off his shoes because he was not in the mood to let anyone come and clean his wet tracks. 

Quinn closed the door behind him and immediately opened the closet to hang his long coat. The closet light turned on immediately and Quinn felt a strange tingle in his gut. That closet was usually empty, after all, he had a trench coat, a winter coat, and a raincoat and didn’t need more. Next to Quinn’s grey raincoat, hung a brown hooded jacket that looked like it had had better days. A couple of battered work boots were kicked into a corner. Quinn took a hanger and put his coat under the vents before stretching his hand toward the jacket. 

The jacket was still warm. The fabric was rough, so different from his coat. The lining was flannel and still smelled like the man who wore it. A black knit cap hung from one of the front pockets. Quinn buried his face in the linen, fighting the tears. Eliot was here and his apartment suddenly wasn’t just a place, it was home, and he didn’t know how to react to it. The sound of his shower starting forced Quinn to return the jacket to the closet and move on.

A couple of steps more and he could see his kitchen had been raided. Green leaves were soaking in the sink, diced potatoes waited on a baking tray and some pieces of meat were marinating inside a bag. Any other day, Quinn would feel a pang of hunger and anticipated delight. Right now, he just felt obliged to eat since Eliot had bothered to prep.

He moved to his bedroom, undoing his shirt’s buttons. Eliot’s jeans were bunched by the bed. Quinn’s sewing kit was open on the bed, next to a black long sleeve shirt. Quinn sat down and closed the kit and hugged Fair Prize before noticing a new bouquet on his flower vase; red poinsettias and white lilies this time. Next to it, a thin red box with numbers and a festive picture. Quinn recognized the artifact but the name escaped his grasp. With a sigh, he let Fair Prize in its place, got up, took out his clothes, and hung them in the closet before walking to the bathroom. 

“Hey,” Eliot called out from the shower before Quinn could cross the door. “You are home early!”

Quinn entered the bathroom and took a long look at Eliot inside the shower, soap dripping from his jowls with the keys hanging from his neck. Quinn nodded by way of greeting and stripped from his underwear.

“How was therapy?” Eliot asked and turned around. 

Eliot was a pretty sight in his birthday suit. Quinn studied his boyfriend’s full-frontal nudity and sighed at his lack of hunger. His therapy session had been brutal today. Saša and he had been working on Quinn’s childhood and he really didn’t want to talk about it again. To avoid a direct answer he took a towel from a drawer and hung it in the radiator. He took Eliot’s towel and hung it too. Eliot was still looking at him with concern growing on his face.

“I’m very fragile right now,” Quinn mumbled and pushed Eliot inside the shower. “Can we share the warmth and silence?”

Eliot’s face relaxed and his eyebrows raised before he closed his eyes. Quinn stood inside the shower, dry and conflicted. He let his head hang, waiting.

“Of course,” Eliot said and pulled Quinn toward his chest. “Come here.”

Quinn let Eliot hug him and he rested his head on Eliot’s shoulder.

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

“You haven’t touched your Advent Calendar,” Eliot said as he sat on the bed.

“Don’t feel like it…” Quinn mumbled and buried his head on that huge teddy bear.

Eliot tried not to groan his exasperation. It was midday, Quinn was still in his bed and Eliot was feeling a bit claustrophobic, stuck inside Quinn’s apartment. The oatmeal Eliot brought early in the morning had congealed, untouched. The medicine boxes were scattered about but Eliot couldn’t vouch Quinn had taken them as prescribed.

“Hey,” Eliot insisted and leaned on Quinn to kiss him. “Christmas is coming. The first Christmas market is already open in Namesti Miru.”

“I think I’ll skip Christmas markets this year.”

Eliot sat up straight. _But you love Christmas markets!_ Eliot wanted to protest, but he kept that for himself. Quinn didn’t bother to react.

Eliot fixed his gaze on the balcony. The snow had been piling up against the glass. He made a note to sweep the balconies before going to the next city and the next team, but for the moment, he just put his hand on Quinn’s shoulder and thought of all the promises Quinn made last year. They were going to make _vánoční cukrovi_ and visit more Christmas markets, the really small ones. They will finally have fried carp and potato salad, sitting at the table with their best clothes. Eliot cared little for all of those trappings, he just wanted to see joy plastered across Quinn’s face again.

“Quinn,” Eliot said slowly. “I’m going out.”

“Ok,” Quinn mumbled and sat on the bed. “I might not be here when you return.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No. Pole dancing lesson.”

“Oh,” Eliot exclaimed and looked at Quinn.

“You are worried.”

Eliot nodded. There was no use to deny what was evident.

“I’m not actively suicidal right now. You can relax.” Quinn pulled his legs closer. “It’s… it’s silly. I’m mourning.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eliot asked and leaned back.

“There is little to talk about,” Quinn leaned back too and rested his head on Eliot’s chest. “Last therapy session… I realized I was just a propaganda tool for my parents.”

Eliot bit his tongue and wrapped his arm around Quinn. There were times to argue, and times to hear, as Shelley kept telling him. This time, he would give hearing a shot.

“They didn’t send me to _Weihnachtsmärkte_ because they want me to be happy,” Quinn monologue and presented little resistance when Eliot’s chest raised. “They didn’t want a family photo because they were proud of me. They didn’t take me to those parties with all the Christmas decorations because… because… their lives weren’t so busy that they could only spend time with me during the Christmas season.” Quinn closed his eyes. “They wanted me out of the way while I wasn’t useful as a trophy... as another link for their…” Quinn scoffed. “I should have known better a long time ago.”

The following silence was oppressive, Eliot fought the urge to add to the conversation and caressed Quinn’s side instead. _How far had you traveled with such a poor fuel_ , Eliot thought and waited for Quinn’s reaction. Tears would suit a grim time like this.

“Weren’t you going out?”

“Not anymore.”

There was no use to tell Quinn he was going to a Christmas market. What was the use to chase that kiss under the blinking lights if all he was looking for was right here?

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

Eliot let his head hang back and his hips slid a bit forward. The warmth surrounded his cock and made him shiver. Quinn's hands held Eliot’s legs. He tried to be gentle, but Eliot’s mind wandered again into the old issue: men’s touch is a bit rough even when they tried to be gentle; women’s touch is gentle even when they were domineering. When Quinn passed his tongue around the crown, Eliot forgot the issue and moaned.

Quinn’s mouth was wet and hot. His tongue slid around Eliot’s shaft, touching every bump of Eliot’s latex encased cock. Quinn held Eliot’s balls in his hand and massaged them with his thumbs. The sensation was exquisite but Eliot had to close his eyes. Despite the slow, deliberate caress, something was off. Without his eyes roaming the glass wall, Eliot could focus on the movement, the sounds, the insistent pressure of Quinn’s palate...

“Hey,” Eliot mumbled and tried to sit on Quinn's couch. 

Eliot looked down and almost groaned at the soft curve of his belly—Tucking your gut during a blowjob is near impossible—before studying Quinn’s face. His boyfriend was on his knees, his mouth half-open, just holding Eliot’s cock against his tongue. His brown eyes piercing Eliot with a burning question he was not able to utter. Eliot faltered, but he said what he had to say.

“Please, stop.”

“What am I doing wrong?”, Quinn demanded with his hand still toying with Eliot’s ballsack.

“Nothing, really,” Eliot recovered his family jewels, took off the condom, and returned them to his thermal underpants. “You know your way around my crotch, but _you_ are not _here_ ,” Eliot leaned forward to cup Quinn’s cheek. “You are sucking my cock to please me.”

“I might be a mess, but I want you to have what you need,” Quinn admitted and leaned to the caress. “I want you to be happy.”

“I don’t need you to blow me to be happy,” Eliot got up to close his jeans. _I want you to be happy, Quinn, but I don’t know how to get there either_. 

“Don’t you want me to finish you off?” Quinn offered and made a jerking movement with his hand.

“I won’t get blue balls,” Eliot said and extended his hand to get Quinn up. “Don’t worry.”

With a dejected expression, Quinn got up. Eliot almost succumbed to the idea of sitting again so Quinn could get that morsel of validation he was so desperately looking for, but that was not healthy. Eliot reached for a hug and Quinn allowed the caress. The look on Quinn’s face was heartbreaking…

“Quinn, is Christmas canceled for real?” Eliot asked with his hand buried on Quinn’s long hair.

Silence. Quinn got stiff between his arms and his hands dropped from around Eliot’s body.

“Is this important, Eliot?” 

Eliot suppressed the groan. Randy used that question to test how much Eliot wanted something. He rested his head against Quinn’s and a brilliant idea crossed his mind.

“You said that you love me for the first time under the Christmas lights,” Eliot said and directed his hand toward Quinn’s robe pocket. “It’s our anniversary. If that’s not important, I don’t know what ‘important’ means.”

Quinn hugged Eliot closely and the movement allowed Eliot to pull Quinn’s phone. The device almost escaped his grasp but Eliot jumbled with it, mumbling comforting sounds to distract Quinn. The clock informed Eliot that he spent more time with his boxers down than he planned, he better make this quick.

“I need to think about it,” Quinn said and rested his weight on Eliot.

“Fair,” Eliot accepted and deleted the number he was trying to type because he forgot he was not in Portland.

“Maybe bring it up in therapy.”

“Sounds like a good idea…” Eliot said with a smile.

“What are you doing behind my back?”

“Bringing you a bit of Christmas cheer,” Eliot said and stepped back, putting Quinn’s phone next to his boyfriend’s ear. “No need to thank me.”

Quinn opened his mouth to protest but the dial tone ringing next to his ear kept him in place. Social conditioning presented particular challenges to Quinn and Eliot exploited that.

“I have a plane to catch,” Eliot said by way of goodbye and kissed Quinn with a bit of a hurry.

“Eliot!” Quinn began to protest but the call came through.

A warm but slightly frail voice traveled through the device, Eliot couldn’t make sense of the words, but he recognized the cadence. The grunt brought tears to Quinn’s eyes and Eliot flashed a half-formed smile at his boyfriend as he retrieved his boots and jacket from the hallway closet.

“Randy?” Quinn mumbled and tried to cover his mouth with his hand and reply at the same time. “Yes, Tony. Eliot’s partner… Of course, _Yonva_ is OK… Merry Christmas to you too.”

Eliot—boots and jacket in his hands—closed the door before Quinn could react. The elevator was quick and Eliot stepped in and kneeled to tie the strings. As the cage climbed down, Eliot wondered why he didn’t think of calling Randy before.


	3. Joy

“And I’m thinkin’ about the road you are on,” the PA system was blaring over Quinn’s head as he fit the scanner to the shopping cart. “I’m thinkin’ about you coming home. I’m wondering if you got your radio on…”

“I’ll be damned...” Quinn grumbled and looked at the loudspeaker. He had chosen this supermarket because he knew Christmas Carols were not on the menu. The country music was an unpleasant surprise. “That sounds just like Eliot!”

The song ended and Quinn pushed the shopping cart inside the store. Therapy went a little better this time. Saša encouraged Quinn’s resolution to reclaim the date and tasked Quinn with finding what part of the celebration had meaning for him. The prospect of breaking each part of his Christmas rituals and facing his past brought shivers down his spine.

Quinn was not in the market because he wanted to explore Christmas, he was in search of something to send Randy. Eliot’s little trick reminded him that he had never paid for his hospitality and Christmas was a good time to do it without hurting any feelings. Quinn checked his mental list: some smoked sausages, vacuum-sealed cheese, maybe they had that wonderful set of wild game rillettes they brought last year…

The store was in full Christmas mode. Decorations were piled high, Otec Vánoc in all sizes, and all kinds of tasty goodies. Quinn stopped to look around, maybe he could add a tin of sugar cookies or some fancy chocolate. The one-pound tin butter cookies were probably too much for an old man like Randy, but a smaller one could be appropriated. He peered to look at the images on the tops. There was a selection to choose from, from the winter wonderland theme to the domestic Christmas tree with gifts.

Without thinking, Quinn picked up the smallest one and tried to put it in his cart. The lid caught his attention and his sick heart began to race inside his chest. There was a father sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree, handing a gift to a golden-headed boy. Quinn’s mouth dried immediately and his mind became totally consumed by all the mornings he sat alone in front of the Christmas tree, surrounded by expensive presents sent by his parent’s acquaintances. His stomach started to turn so hard it hurt. The image faded and Quinn gripped the handle in an effort to anchor himself to reality.

Quinn took a deep breath. It was harder than that time asthma got him at Eliot’s friend’s place but air came in. The tin in his hand was shaking and his shirt felt uncomfortably wet.

“Can I help you?” A woman who was pushing a car with a toddler asked as she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Pardon me?”

“ _Is everything alright?_ ” The woman insisted in German. Quinn didn’t notice he had changed languages in his mind. “ _You look pale_.”

“ _I just read the sugar content label_ ,” Quinn lied and put the tin in the pile. “ _Thank you for asking_.”

The woman looked satisfied with his reply and moved on. Quinn took a couple of deep breaths, took out his pocketbook, and scribbled some notes. He needed to bring this to Saša during their next session. He wrote “Dysregulated/reactive and aware. Yay?” and drew a square around the note wondering if that was a sign of progress. The feeling of uneasiness hadn’t subdued, but he felt functional again. The pocketbook went to its place and Quinn looked around. 

Quinn was not sure how he ended in the home furnishing department, but this was a part of the store he had never explored. They had a sale, probably clearing out the inventory. Quinn smiled at the small details people were willing to buy. His apartment only had two pieces of furniture that weren’t part of his contract: the end-of-bed trunk he inherited from his grandmother and his practice pole. 

Maybe it was time to add another item if he could find it within his means.

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

Quinn groaned and tried not to stab that annoying piece of paper with a borrowed screwdriver.

It was a stupid idea. Not the idea of getting an entryway bench, that was awesome. His apartment needed a place to put on comfy shoes after a day in the rain and the snow. Even Saša approved his initiative.

Quinn sat on the floor and rested his back against the wall. He needed time to let the frustration settle down.

Metal pieces scattered about, a plank of cheap wood, and a sheet of instructions that made no sense littered his hallway. Quinn wondered again if he should have accepted Dalimil’s offer to assemble the bench. 

Quinn got up, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of apple juice. The box was still on the floor. Quinn visualized the industrial entryway bench next to his door and pictured the moccasins Randy’s friends gave him next to the black slippers he had bought for Eliot. It was a lovely image, Quinn realized between sips of apple juice but wondered again where he got the stupid notion that he could put it together before Eliot’s return. 

His old life had left him unable to take care of himself. He had never in his life attempted to build anything, he had never changed things around himself… At the store, with the box in his hands, he had pictured Eliot’s confused face when he noticed the bench for the first time, the slow prideful smile on his boyfriend’s lips. That smile… if he could bring out that smile, Quinn could have proof that he would make it through.

What had possessed him? 

Quinn pulled out his phone and looked at the hour. Eliot should be here in the next twelve hours and Quinn still had to wait a couple of hours before he could call Randy. Randy had warned him that if he didn’t hear of Quinn by the sundown of each Wednesday, he would ring him and cared little if it was the middle of the night in Prague.

“You are my family now, boy,” Randy had said from the other side of the world, “and you will be so even if _Waya_ shits the bed. Don’t make me worry.” 

It was better to call the old-timer at the crack of the day. Quinn sighed and looked again at the mess he was at. He had the skills. If he could gauge how far he had to reach for a punch, he certainly could work out how to build a metal rectangle.

The phone vibrated in his hand and gave him a start. By the second time, Quinn consulted the screen and felt how his eyebrow raised when he read the number.

“Hey,” Quinn said when he answered the call.

“Hey,” Eliot said on the other side of the line. “Quinn, change of plans.”

“Oh?” Quinn stifled the disappointment in his voice. “Everything all right?”

“The team in London found trouble. I must be there.”

“Understood.”

“How are you holding?”

“Fine. I’m home after therapy, working on a project.”

“That’s nice,” Eliot replied and made a pause as a voice in Spanish sounded over his voice.

“Are you at the airport?”

“Yes. Waiting at the gate. Have you thought about Christmas?”

“Yes. You’ll have your tree.”

“You’ll have your carp.”

“Brno, Prague and Křivoklát Christmas markets.”

“You promised me Karlovy Vary!”

“Depends on my health.”

“Thermal waters will do you good,” Eliot insisted over the noise of the airport, “and I don’t care if your swimming trunks are a bit too tight.”

“Another thing,” Quinn added before Eliot could continue to push the issue. “No gifts.”

“No gifts.” Eliot agreed and made a pause to hear the announcement. “That’s my flight. _Miluju tě_.” 

“ _Miluju tě_.”

Quinn ended the call and returned to his problem. At least, he didn’t have a tight deadline now. The phone in his hand vibrated again, a message this time. 

_Can I pick you up from your PD lesson?_ Eliot wrote. _Send me an address if you agree_.

Quinn sat and arranged the different sets of screws, absentmindedly typing the address. There had to be a logical pattern here...

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

Eliot didn’t rush to the place when he climbed down the metro car near Vinohrady. It was snowing again and breaking his leg in his hurry wouldn’t help anyone. Quinn’s class had finished five minutes ago, so he was probably still gathering his stuff. Eliot studied the building, consulted his phone, and then, very belatedly, noticed he didn’t have the exact address. He decided to wait at the door, snow was not a problem if he could stand in place.

While he waited, Eliot patted his jacket to feel like all the bumps were in the right places. His front pockets kept eight small packages of _polvorones_ from Spain, so he could give them to Quinn’s friends. He felt his chest interior pocket, the stained glass star he bought for Quinn was still there safe and unbroken. It was such a feat after he had to fight to save the London team’s hitter from some security guards. The turron bars didn’t survive, sadly. Finally, he checked his front pocket. The box was still there, wrapped in that fancy jewelry paper and that made him smile.

Quinn had said no gifts, but Eliot couldn’t help himself. As soon as he saw that silver and black set of cufflinks and tie pins displayed at the jewelry window, Eliot knew those were meant for his boyfriend and Quinn would have to make his peace with a small Christmas gift the night of the twenty-fourth. Thought cookies if he dares to argue.

The sound of voices reverberating the tunnel that lead inside the building alerted Eliot that people were coming. He brushed the snow from his shoulders and his hood and walked to the door. Four women—Good, more _polvorones_ for him!—bundled for the weather surrounded his boyfriend. They were very touchy and loud and Quinn was smiling at them. That smile was fake, Eliot clocked it from a mile away, but Quinn was out, he was socializing and around people. That was progress in Eliot’s book and he felt kind of proud of his boyfriend.

Before Eliot could utter a greeting, one of the women noticed him and was quick to clutch Quinn’s arm in apprehension. Eliot, not for the first time, noticed a man in jeans, dressed in black with long hair under the hoodie was bound to be read wrong. Quinn said something in Czech to the woman and the woman pointed at Eliot.

“Hey!” Quinn exclaimed and his genuine smile shone brightly as he pried the woman’s hand from his arm. “He’s my boyfriend!”

The mood changed immediately. Quinn walked down alone to meet Eliot, but Eliot had time to notice the women were measuring him. Eliot probably didn’t match with the image they made of Quinn’s traveling boyfriend. Quinn was leaning forward to greet him and Eliot pushed them out of his mind.

“You got a haircut,” Eliot commented with a smile, before kissing Quinn’s cheek. 

“I noticed it was too long,” Quinn said and ran his fingers through his golden waves.

“You look stunning,” Eliot said and held Quinn’s hand. This was progress, plain and simple.

Quinn pulled Eliot inside the tunnel to shelter him from the falling snow and called their friends to greet Eliot. They shook hands cordially, Eliot dispensed his little gifts, they said their goodbyes with promises of meeting during the next year. Eliot was not sad to see them go at all.

“Come here, you handsome beast,” Eliot said when they were gone.

Quinn smiled and let Eliot pull him closer for a kiss and he responded in the appropriate fashion. Eliot didn’t care if they were in a public space, he was just too damned happy because Quinn had mustered the strength to go on. Quinn held him against his chest and Eliot did the best he could to keep the glass ornament safe.

“Do you have some energy to spend?” Eliot asked when Quinn finally slacked his hug. “Or do you want me to make a nice dinner?”

“I rather go home,” Quinn said and held Eliot’s hand. “I want to take a nap.”

“OK.” Eliot walked under the fine snow next to Quinn. “I think I can fix something nice while you rest.”

“I had an appointment at my regular doctor’s office this morning,” Quinn said and held Eliot’s hand. “He gave me the green light.”

“For what?”

“For ‘trying more taxing activities’ if I’m in the mood,” Quinn stopped and looked at Eliot. “I want to try again. Later this night. I think I _can_ be there for you.”

Eliot looked back. It had been ten days since he looked at that handsome face, he mostly missed Quinn’s presence. Rolling in the hay, sort of speak, was not in his immediate plans.

“Tell you what,” Eliot started, gently, because he knew how much this meant for Quinn. “We have three days before I have to check on the Vienna team. Let us take this slow.”

Quinn closed his eyes slowly and hung his head. Eliot felt a chill of wind crossing between them and clumps of snow caressed his boots.

“Can we cuddle with a movie?” Quinn asked after a long stretch of silence.

“That sounds perfect,” Eliot agreed and started to walk toward the tram station.

“I made a thing,” Quinn said and Eliot could taste the pride in his voice. “I can’t wait to show it to you…” 


	4. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit heavy on the angst.

Quinn was having trouble sleeping. Insomnia happened more frequently since he started the antidepressants, he had expected it. Eliot had held him all afternoon and made sure he had at least water to replenish the tears. Eliot played the big spoon while Quinn took a nap with Fair Prize in his arms, and—surprisingly—the crying bout did him good.

The night was lovely, Eliot was snoring slightly by his side and Fair Prize was resting against the bed. Quinn took a deep breath and wondered if he should feel happy. He was loved, he was safe, he was comfortable. His emotions had been dulled for almost a month, but his mind knew a good thing when he had it.

Eliot mumbled and turned to his side in his sleep. Quinn paid his boyfriend some attention. Eliot’s nightmares almost always start slow. After five minutes, Eliot settled down and kept snoring. Quinn felt the smile tugging his lips, something resembling content stirred inside his chest. Gingerly, he laid down his weight next to Eliot and made his boyfriend the little spoon. Quinn hugged Eliot until a strange warmth spread over his lap.

“Did you fart on my balls?”

“I didn’t mean to…” Elliot mumbled, still half asleep. “Sorry.”

“That was hot,” Quinn complained and peeled off from Eliot’s back.

“Yeah, I felt it,” Eliot admitted and buried his nose on the sheets for a moment before warning: “Don’t shake the blankets.”

Quinn didn’t know what he should be more suspicious of, the check or the warning. Disregarding the instruction, Quinn moved the sheets aside and the stink hit him without any mercy.

“ _Ježiši!_ ”

“I told you not to…”

“Randy warned me you might shit the bed!” Quinn complained as he got out of bed. “But I thought he meant metaphorically!”

“It was just gas!” Eliot complained as he sat on the bed with a defeated expression.

“Give me the key!”

“Come on…”

“I’m not going to jump, you moron!” Quinn protested and tried not to retch. “I need fresh _AIR_!” 

The word made Eliot spring into action, he rolled over the bed, landed on his knees, and slid over the floor. The key was already in his hand and slid into the lock without a hitch. Quinn had to admit Eliot could be the most efficient man when it suited him. The bar was barely out of the rail when Quinn pushed the door open.

The cold breeze hit him like a two-by-four but it filled his lungs immediately. The subsequent coughing fit cleared out that rank smell from his nostrils. With naked hands, Quinn held the rail and breathed through his mouth to force nausea down.

“Here,” Eliot said, putting Quinn’s robe over his shoulders. “You are going to be cold…”

“You are really silent but deadly, aren’t you?”

Eliot chuckled and held his own elbows with both hands. He looked a bit ashamed but his eyes were trained on Quinn. Those blue eyes said that Quinn had crossed a line. Quinn slid his arms inside the robe and paid attention to the landscape gulping cold air.

“Am I overreacting?” Quinn asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

“Just a skosh,” Eliot said and leaned on the rail, “but I won’t hold it against you.”

“Because I’m sick? Pal, you are in no position to judge…”

“Because you were an only child,” Eliot retorted and rubbed his arms. Quinn can’t pinpoint why, but he knew Eliot had to endure someone else’s stink. “All the travel got me a touch of soldier gut. _Rancid_ is not my regular bouquet.” Eliot passed his arm over Quinn’s shoulders, probably in search of some warmth. “Can I ask you something?”

Quinn nodded and let his eyes roam over the snow-covered roof of the buildings.

“Why this place?”

Quinn looked at Eliot a bit surprised. This place was awesome, inside the highest building in the city, with stunning views, continual wind, and balconies. Then he focused on Eliot again and the same way he knew someone else had farted on Eliot, he knew that was not the question.

 _Why_ , Eliot was asking, _if you know heights are a fatal attraction, if they invite you to jump, why did you come this high…?_

“Do you know that feeling?” Quinn started slowly, trying to answer the question truthfully. It was harder than he could expect it. “When you feel worry-free? Totally at peace?”

“Hmm…”

“Free as a bird, they say,” Quinn continued and rubbed Eliot’s arm. “Well, the first time I felt it was when I flew to America to study College. I was flying, I was free… I promised myself that I’d find a place where I could always feel free.”

Eliot rested his head on Quinn’s shoulder. He probably didn’t understand, but he accepted the answer. It took Quinn three months of intense therapy to figure out that he wanted to break free from all his anxiety. He wasn’t trying to die, he wanted to fly.

“Let’s go inside,” Quinn said, noticing that if he didn’t feel his feet, Eliot was in danger of becoming a frozen treat. “The noxious cloud must have been dispelled by now.”

“In a moment,” Eliot said and took a step back.

Quinn felt his head tilting until he noticed Eliot was standing on his right side where the wind blew the strongest.

“ _Kurva, Eliota!_ ”

“Better here than in your bed!” Eliot retorted as he took another step back.

Quinn exclaimed something inarticulate and turned inside with an exaggerated expression of disgust. As soon as he got inside, Quinn laughed at the absurdity of it all and, instead of getting into bed, he went to the kitchen to put some water to boil.

They might need to share a bottle of hot water, but they were going to be fine.

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

Quinn finished his call with Dalimil and focused his attention on the package Eliot and he had just hauled from Brno. He checked all the Christmas decorations, ready to accept the loss of a good quarter of them. Eliot and _svařák_ were a funny combination while strolling the city, but a dangerous one on a train

Eliot had gone directly to the balcony as soon as they reached the apartment. He had been ranting about Hardison, barely taking a breath between his clenched teeth. Quinn was usually more curious but this time, he had another fish to fry. 

According to Randy, Eliot plays guitar. Randy informed him, at the same time he was guiding Quinn to assemble the bench, that Eliot got the taste in his youth and played with an old cheap guitar until he enlisted. Eliot, apparently, blew part of his first Army paycheck getting an acoustic Fender one. 

Quinn raised his head from the ornaments and watched how Eliot ranted at the phone on the balcony.

While they walked to the building Quinn had stumbled at the perfect gift for Eliot. An acoustic guitar was displayed at the shop-front of a nearby bazaar and the card with the price said Fender. Quinn had to get it despite knowing he had said that gifts were not allowed. Dalimil had to earn his pay and his Christmas gratuity by braving the elements to get that guitar for Quinn and that handsome devil was, as always, ready to please.

Quinn moved the complete ornaments to a box and put all the broken ones together. Eliot had stopped ranting but he wasn’t coming in. Quinn looked at Eliot’s back, worried, but he knew better than to push the issue. With calm, he got up, walked toward the main door with the broken ornaments, and opened the door. He put the box on the left side of the door and closed it again. Living high on the hog makes things so easy.

Eliot was fitting the bar to the door again when he returned inside. Quinn noticed he was fumbling with the keys.

“What?” Eliot spat without turning his back. His attention apparently was in the security bar, but his eyes were looking at the sheet of glass.

“I’m going to take a bath,” Quinn stated, refusing to give Eliot a bad outlet for his repressed anger. “You’re free to join me.”

Quinn moved inside, already taking out his new, cheap suit. Winter made the purchase unavoidable. As usual, he hung the two pieces and carried the shirt to the bathroom. Ventilation was better there. Without any hurry, he began to fill the tub, hung a towel from the radiator, and took a quick shower. Then, without bothering with a towel, he sat inside the bathtub and let his eyes enjoy the open space. His worries melted on the blizzard that caressed his huge window.

The shower started when Quinn began to feel drowsy. Eliot was joining him after all and the prospect of being wet and naked next to his boyfriend didn’t land Quinn anywhere near to happy. But the shower continued falling for enough time to make him reconsider. Eliot’s long showers disturbed him on a level he couldn’t understand. 

“Hey…”

“Careful, it’s hot.”

“I’ll survive,” Eliot said and slid into the water.

The immediate hiss that followed his words made Quinn’s eyes roll. To Eliot’s credit, he sat still and endured the heat.

“Did I tell…”

“You didn’t and I don’t want to hear,” Quinn cut Eliot’s attempt at distraction short. “I think you need to sit with your feelings, pal.”

“You are the one on therapy.”

“I’m not the only one hurting.”

Eliot grumbled and moved to the corner. Quinn stayed in his place. If Eliot wanted to stew in his anger was his problem. Quinn sunk to his shoulders and enjoyed the warmth. After a while, Quinn decided that he deserved the pampering after a day walking in the cold.

“I’m not hurting,” Eliot mumbled when Quinn moved to the rack affixed to the wall.

“And I’m not clinically depressed,” Quinn commented and he could hear the sarcasm in his voice. “You picked a fight with your nerd for reasons I don’t know and now you want me to disregard your anger. Well, not in my bathtub.” He let the eucalyptus and lavender oil hit the hot water while looking at Eliot. “Put up or shut up.”

The smell made Eliot twist his nose. Quinn noticed it and repressed the smile before he dimmed the lights. He loved the view from his bathtub when the room was dark. 

“What came first?” Quinn inquired in the dark. “The tense shoulders or the rage? The clenched fists or the fear?”

“What difference does it make?”

“None in particular. I was curious if you were aware.” Quinn splashed himself with scented water. “You are having a bad day. You are allowed.”

“Stop trying to…”

“To what precisely? To make you aware of your anger? To help you?”

“You are not helping!”

“I beg to differ.” Quinn sat comfortably and let the water cover his shoulders. “You are talking.”

Eliot sulked for a bit longer and Quinn let him be. When he spoke again, his voice was deep and uneven.

“Hardison was touching my accounts again.”

“Is it about the money?”

“No. The bills had to be paid and I’ll never deplete my accounts, even if I live like royalty.”

“What is it then?”

The water was disturbed when Eliot abandoned his corner and approached Quinn. Quinn didn’t think, he just parted his legs and let Eliot find his spot between them. Eliot let his head rest on Quinn’s naked chest and took a deep breath.

“I don’t like people sniffing around my money,” Eliot said and hooked his arm around Quinn’s waist. “It makes me feel unsafe.”

Quinn splashed water across Eliot’s bare back before rubbing his hand to keep him warm. Eliot had let Quinn taste breadcrumbs of his subpar childhood, but this time he was about to share something big. Quinn did his best to be there, without judgment, without hurry.

“I hear you.”

“My old man used to raid my piggy bank,” Eliot whispered and Quinn felt him tremble. “He moved to ransack my bedroom when I started to make real money.”

“That must have been hard.” 

“No, that was tolerable… expected.” Eliot turned around and let his back rest on Quinn’s belly. He didn’t want to make eye contact and Quinn respected that. “What made me feel unsafe was to return home after a day of delivering papers, school, football, work, and find him passed out on the floor. Drunk as a skunk. Drunk on my dime… And those were the good days.”

Quinn took another breath and let his fingers roam through Eliot’s long hair. He refused to wonder how many times Eliot had had to face the scene, but that had to be frequent because Eliot hadn’t had any more tears to cry about it.

“On Christmas morning,” Eliot mumbled with a faltering voice, “I might have been ten or eleven, I found him drunk and unresponsive. He had found Randy and Willa’s Christmas card. Since mom… passed away, they sent me enough money for a Greyhound to visit them.” The more Eliot spoke, the more he shivered. “Dad drank the whole price of the ticket in one night. I… I cried when I called nine nine one. I was about to lose my dad on Christmas morning…”

Without a word, Quinn hugged Eliot with arms and legs, wanting to shelter him from memory and pain, from all those little hurts that had built up until they became unbearable.

“You and me,” Quinn said when Eliot stopped shivering, “We need better Christmas traditions, pal…”

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

The snow was falling on the roof of the small hut and the Christmas light began to shine. Quinn stood patiently under the flakes, hearing how Eliot rummaged the box with smoked cheese by his side. They had spent almost all day between Staroměstské, Václavské, Miru, and Jiřák looking for the perfect Christmas ornaments. 

By three in the afternoon, Quinn was aching to return home and snuggle Fair Prize for an hour or two. Kids and parents everywhere threatened to trigger another episode, but Eliot kept being a damper to all it. Either a fight, a pet, or a kiss were given when Quinn felt he was about to crumble and that alone propped Quinn up for another round. 

The stall worker called Quinn and offered him a box. Quinn smiled when he noticed the sticker with the company and the address in Poděbrady. They exchanged Christmas wishes and the last batch of ornaments was finally in his grasp.

“Hallelujah!” Eliot exclaimed when Quinn received the package with the silver and gold blown-glass and beaded Christmas stars they spent half an hour arguing about.

“Well, we got the last ornaments for your tree,” Quinn said and stacked the package over the other three boxes. “I hope you’re happy because I’m short of resources and we are not going to Křivoklát Castle.”

“Come on!” Eliot protested and stopped rummaging the box with the snacks he was carrying.

“I’m barely holding together as it is.”

“Ok…” Eliot admitted defeat and let his shoulders slump. “For your health.”

“Sorry if my sick ass got in the way of your visit to a hunting weapons museum.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“That’s what I heard!” Quinn said, moving the package to the empty space between them.

“You totally owe me a trip to Karlovy Vary now.”

“Come again?” 

“I said what I said!”

Quinn stopped letting the ebb of tourists and locals rush by his side. He did his best to stop his shoulders from dropping, his hands inside the gloves felt cold and his eyes were welling up. Eliot took three steps before noticing Quinn was not by his side. He came back rushing with his expression moving from annoyed to worry.

“Is this our last Christmas together?” Quinn asked when Eliot came into a whispering distance. 

“Jeez, you…”

“Please, tell me why we can’t go next year.”

Eliot sighed and did his best to wrap Quinn between his arms. Quinn wished his hands were not full of fragile trinkets because he needed to anchor himself.

“I’ve been making you walk on a sprained ankle,” Eliot said after a couple of heartbeats, “haven’t I?”

“As a metaphor, it’s quite apt.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I just want to stop feeling wretched.”

“If you want me to,” Eliot offered and cupped Quinn’s cheek, “I’ll park my ass on your couch and I won’t move again until New Year.”

“Slow down,” Quinn almost begged, leaning into the caress. “I love your energy, but I can’t follow.”

Eliot nodded, raised on his tiptoes, and kissed Quinn’s slips slowly. Quinn received the caress and his heart beat hard inside his chest. Quinn’s knees buckled a little and Eliot braced him with his hand full of smoked cheese in a box. A year had brought many differences, but a kiss under the Christmas light still felt like magic.

The kiss ended, Eliot looked deep into Quinn’s eyes and cleared his throat. For a moment, he looked hesitant, but his voice was clear when he said those words Quinn had been waiting all day to hear.

“Let’s go home to put you to bed.”


	5. Christmas Eve

Quinn got out of the way when Dalimil entered his apartment ass first. The vague pang of lust stirred his crotch and confused Quinn, but then Eliot—always the gentleman—came in, carrying the heaviest part of the tree. The way Eliot grunted and muttered between his teeth turned the small smoldering kindle into a forest fire in a heartbeat. Quinn blessed his doctor's name because dropping one drug changed the whole interaction; he was sleeping more and also getting hornier.

To let them negotiate the Christmas tree inside the apartment, Quinn squeezed himself between Dalimil and the kitchen island. The sound of working men was not helping with his hard-on; Quinn poured himself a glass of juice, trying not to pay too much attention to the scene. Then there was a crash, followed by a testosterone-laden melange of English and Czech in the form of a loud argument. Eliot, somehow, ended up sitting on the bench, wedged between the wall and the door, with the round flower pot sitting in his lap. Dalimil called reinforcements before Eliot could protest.

“We two could get that thing in…” Eliot grumbled and moved to the kitchen space once two other concierges free him from under the tree.

“It’s their work to avoid injuries to the tenants,” Quinn replied and pushed the _perníčky_ dish within his reach. “It’s not personal.”

Eliot mumbled some more, selected a big snowflake from the dish, and leaned forward to supervise the three young concierges. They stopped in front of the couch to toss their jackets away. Quinn poured Eliot a cup of coffee after checking how the pastry was raising. The concierges were working hard placing the tree in the corner of the room, between two panoramic windows. Eliot’s cookie, untouched, was hovering next to his lips.

“Be discreet, you rake!” Quinn scolded in a hissing whisper once he followed Eliot’s gaze to a crouching Dalimil.

Eliot scoffed and bit the cookie a tad harder than usual. Quinn didn’t blame him, Dalimil was a pretty sight to idle the time by. The concierges were, with professional efficacy, busy finding the best face of the tree and picking up the stay pine needles. Eliot busied himself with wrapping one of his first experiments with _makový závin_. Quinn felt strangely moved by his grace to admit the blow and by his attempts to do something nice for the service. Without a comment, Quinn took a white envelope and wrote ‘ _Veselé Vánoce!_ ’ on it with his best calligraphy. He showed Eliot three purple Czech bills and Eliot nodded. They had earned a little extra.

Quinn delivered the gifts and spoke some words of gratitude while Eliot filled a jar to water the tree. He was not too busy to notice Quinn’s smile or the long time Dalimil’s fingers touched Quinn’s as he handed over the cake. Instead of tending the tree immediately, Eliot stood behind Quinn and waited for Dalimil to clear the room.

“How’s being rakish now?” Eliot grumbled on Quinn’s ear as soon as the door closed.

“Pot. Kettle. Black.” Quinn declared with a devilish smile. “You have to admit it: Dalimil is kind of yummy…”

“I won’t!”

“Well,” Quinn said with a nonchalant shrug before taking the jar from Eliot’s hands, “I wouldn't kick him out of bed for farting…”

Eliot looked at Quinn with seething outrage. His need to assert dominance was adorable. Quinn even had the time to cross half the room before the last sentence dropped like an anvil into Eliot’s brain.

“HEY!”

“Did I kick you out?” Quinn asked without turning his back. “That’s where you are going to sleep tonight!”

“That’s where I’ll make you forget him tonight!” Eliot barked and started to walk toward Quinn.

“Promises!” Quinn taunted once before Eliot wrapped his arms around him and his five o’clock stubble tickled the back of his neck. “Promises…” 

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

The aroma of sweet bread, baked apple, and roasting nuts filled the open space. The nutcracker on Quinn’s flatscreen was showing a flurry of dancers; the second act was starting. Eliot tried to stand tall, his hands were full of Quinn’s buttcheeks and his nose was teasing Quinn’s crotch. This was a strangely arousing position to begin Christmas celebrations, but he was not complaining.

“I think we should call Dalimil…”

“Just put the stupid comet in place!”

“Are you sure? He could bring a ladder…”

“Are you betting on me getting tired of touching your butt?”

Quinn laughed and planted his foot on Eliot’s shoulder and pushed himself up to fix the comet over their luscious Christmas tree to the score of the Sugar Plum Fairy suite. Eliot wished he could see Quinn’s smile when he turned on the lights. Quinn climbed down and Eliot caught him in a bear hug.

“There is your tree.”

“ _Our_ tree,” Eliot corrected and moved to a side hug to watch the finished product. 

With a critical eye, Eliot studied the fluffy tree skirt, the thick boughs, and twigs surrounded by golden tinsel. The ornaments were a bit sparse, but they couldn’t agree on the kind. Eliot didn’t just want to put glass balls on a tree without Quinn’s input. They had stars made of glass and beads, and golden glass eggs trimmed with white and silver teardrops, and those red twisted bells sturdy enough to survive the travel from Brno. The Christmas tree topper was a clear glass comet with white light and white LED dripping icicles hung from the branches. Better than any other tree Eliot had gotten so far. 

“Hmmm… you’re right.” Eliot said and rest his weight against Quinn “It needs more red things.”

“I don’t have fuel to fight my way through a Christmas market.”

“There is always next year,” Eliot comforted Quinn and held him closer. “How do a slice of freshly baked apple strudel and a cup of hot cocoa sound to you?”

“Sinful,” Quinn replied and hugged Eliot closer, “but I’m not a stranger to sin.”

“You’re a sinful, pretty thing,” Eliot praised and approached Quinn.

Quinn didn’t volley back the praise, he looked at Eliot for a long time. Eliot could spot the kiss, but he didn’t rush it. He wanted to know if a kiss under domestic Christmas lights felt like magic as it did outside.

Five minutes later, still feeling his heart fluttering against his chest, Eliot admitted to himself that they were even better.

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

“Dammit!” Eliot exclaimed with his hands buried deep into the carp he was gutting.

“I’m on it,” Quinn replied from the table and moved to the kitchen. He could fix the tablecloth later.

Eliot sighed as his phone kept ringing. Quinn, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt, took Eliot’s phone from his jeans pocket.

“Put it on speaker!” 

“Huh?” The grunt made Quinn smile immediately, he hugged Eliot and kept the phone close and safe. “ _Waya_?”

“Hello, Randy!” Eliot grunted back and then with a more amicable voice. “Happy Christmas Eve. Where are you at?”

“They are coming here later, boy. How’s your beau?”

“Hello, Randy.”

“My boy! Thank you for your box!” Randy exclaimed with an even chirpier tone. “I’m gonna share it with the crew. The duck smells very good.”

“I’m glad to know you liked it!”

“Am I in your way?” Eliot complained and pulled the innards of the fish.

“Are you treating my boy right, _Waya_?”

“First, I _AM_ your boy. The first one. The original.” Eliot clarified and rinsed the inside of the carp. “Second, I take offense at that question.”

“He’s pampering me,” Quinn testified with a small smile.

“Sounds like you have your Christmas sorted out, boys,” Randy said and added an approving grunt, “My best wishes. Try to visit sometime.”

“We'll try,” Eliot gave a noncommittal reply. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Randy!”

“ _Tsisa Udetiyisgv'I_ , boys! I love you both!”

Quinn ended the call and returned the phone to Eliot’s pocket. He kissed Eliot’s nape and moved to take out the dishes. The table still had to be properly laid. Eliot filleted the carp and carried the stakes to the boiling pot to make soup.

“You have three dishes.”

“It’s tradition to have a dish ready for the one who we are waiting for.” 

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“ _Ježíšek_ ,” Quinn clarified and rolled his eyes as he pulled the tablecloth to cover the table.

“You know the world will end if he comes, don’t you?”

“I said it was tradition,” Quinn retorted as he reached to put the third dish in front of their places. “I didn’t say it was rational.”

“Fair!” Eliot conceded and turned his attention to the pots.

Quinn—still bent over the table—looked at that place and the golden-haired boy of the cookie tin smiled at him. Young, happy, polite, perfect… the kind of kid everyone wanted around. The kind of child everyone could love. The boy was a mirage, a hallucination, but it summarized Quinn’s anxieties and worries pretty well. _Please_ , Quinn begged as he forced his eyes to look at the sundown behind the ghost of depression present, _please, remain vacant. Please, never materialize. I’m not cut out for being a father and I can’t let you be raised by mine. Please_ … Eliot held his hand and grabbed Quinn’s waist. Quinn shot up, startled.

“Hey…” Eliot said with a soft tone. “I don’t know what’s happening inside your head, but I can tell it’s not good. Come here...”

Eliot’s warm arms wrapped him, his smell filled Quinn’s nostril and his shoulder held firm. Eliot was here, right now, for him. Eliot was real and his fears were madness. If only Quinn could believe it...

->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->->

The Christmas Eve dinner was ending with a high note. The room was dimly lit, the tree was shining with the quiet medieval city as a background, and the leftovers of their modest banquet littered the table. Fish soup, fried carp doused with lemon, potato salad, and a cheese board were properly eaten in silence. Poppyseed cake and an apple strudel were sampled, but not consumed. Eliot repeated his Christmas wishes to the people who missed him in Oregon.

Quinn put his fork next to his dish with a happy sigh. Eliot conveyed his Christmas wishes with a smile and calculated that Quinn ate more than his usual. Maybe it was by Eliot’s cooking, maybe it was the Christmas spirit, but that fact alone reassured Eliot. 

“They miss you,” Quinn said after Eliot put his phone back on his jeans.

Their best clothes this year were button-up shirts without ties. Eliot felt ridiculous with those warm slippers Quinn got him, but he had done worse to please other people. The joy of seeing Quinn not wearing pajamas was brighter than their tree. 

“I know,” Eliot replied and extended his hand toward the piece of poppy seed cake he was eating when the call came through. “I miss them.”

Eliot took a bit of his treat before noticing Quinn’s gaze was fixed on the window and his polite, ironic smile was fixed on his face. Eliot didn’t need to ask, he finished the cake and took Quinn’s hand.

“You should be with them,” Quinn protested when Eliot closed his fingers. “Parker repeated like... seven times that she misses you.”

“Quinn, I’m where I want to be,” Eliot tried to explain without taking the bait. He could barely explain to himself what had happened inside his heart the last year. He wasn’t ready to put it in words. “Most of my life I have been sent, manipulated, delivered, or forced to be where I wouldn’t want to if I had a choice.”

Eliot kissed Quinn’s cold hand, trying to impress in that caress how precious this time had been without letting him know how hard the choice was.

“I want to be here.”

Quinn looked at his hand and a sad smile appeared on his lips, then, slowly, he patted Eliot’s hand and nodded. Eliot knew he was not convinced, but had chosen to believe Eliot had spoken the truth.

“Thank you for the beautiful Christmas gift.”

“We said ‘no gifts’,” Eliot said and his hand went to the small box in his pocket. Maybe this was the time to turn that sad smile into a pleased if not a happy one. “Are you changing your mind?”

“I meant ‘your company’.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“You might be the first person to say that in my life.” Quinn got up. “I’m full… Can we go to bed?”

“Only if I’m the little spoon.”

“You drive a hard bargain, sir,” Quinn said and his smile lightened up, “but it’s Christmas now, and I feel magnanimous.”

Eliot got up, put his arm across Quinn's shoulders, and led his boyfriend to that soft, warm, and familiar bed. The gift could wait, after all, in this corner of the world, Christmas starts with Mikuláš and ends with the Magi.


	6. Christmas Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter because my S.O. can't stop complaining about the gifts and Karlovy Vary loose ends.

Quinn was propped against the headboard, wondering why he didn’t feel drowsy. Sex always left him sleepy and tired, especially after riding Eliot’s ass. They had tried to go the other way after they decided to didn’t bother with the pajamas, but Quinn couldn’t bear it. Eliot’s exquisite, taunting offer had led to the realization that they were not too out of shape for those games.

In the silence of the night, Eliot had turned his back at first but turned around to hug his boyfriend after a while. The shared warmth and the lovely sight of the snowed city lulled Quinn into a restful state until he heard the sound coming from beneath the sheets. 

That sound was not one anyone would like to hear in the early hours of Christmas morning. Quinn sighed.

“Did you fart?”

“Who pushed all that air inside me?” Eliot snuggled closer without an apology. Quinn could bet he was sleep-talking.

“That should be me.” Quinn accepted Eliot’s logic and kissed Eliot’s crown.

Eliot kept sleeping, leaving Quinn alone with his thoughts again. In the depths of the night, the shadows of his mind turned like a whirlpool. When he was completely sure Eliot was out of commission, he extricated himself from Eliot’s arms, put some pajamas on, picked up Fair Prize and the advent calendar Eliot bought him and abandoned the room. Staying in bed was a sure way to sour his mood.

They went to sleep without clearing the table, without turning the tree lights out. Quinn put his box and his bear on the couch and did his share of the domestic affairs. By the time he finished, he was cold, tired, and about to crash, but the dishes were clean, the tablecloth put away, and the leftovers in containers. That had to count for something.

Sleep was an impossible mission, Quinn moved to the couch. He picked up the blanket and threw it over his shoulders before hugging his teddy bear. Fair Prize’s softness was comforting, Quinn felt so sorry for his childhood self. Probably his younger self needed the comfort more than he did now, but Quinn refused to deny himself even a modicum of relief.

The apartment was quiet and dark, except for the brightly lit Christmas tree. The silence was familiar, Quinn picked up his box and moved to the front of the tree. He itemized the decorations, remembering Eliot’s face at each discovery, and extended his hand to touch the multicolor stained glass star Eliot bought in Spain just for him. He had the most thoughtful boyfriend…

There was another Christmas ritual to enact, maybe for the last time ever. Quinn sat on the floor and looked at the breathtaking view of the city. The night will last a couple of hours more, Quinn had no hurry. Fair Prize landed in his lap and the advent calendar was within reach. Quinn waited for the sun to rise. 

Gifts were open after daybreak, that was his father’s rule. Year after year, after his parents had gone to bed, Quinn moved to the Christmas tree, raided the fancy chocolate boxes people always gave to his mother and looked at the dancing lights. Waiting to see the first light, waiting to open the boxes and enjoy the contents. Books and clothes, those he could keep, and knives and guns too, but he only had one hour or two to play with the toys before his father came down and seized everything he didn’t deem fit for his son. 

The chocolate piece melted in Quinn’s mouth, but tears didn’t come. So many years had passed, the wound was there, but it had stopped bleeding. 

Little Jonah had learned soon not to cry over the balls and the dolls and other things; he learned to make the most of a couple of hours. The lights danced for him and the joy of those brief times warmed his heart. Of course, the donors of those gifts cared little for him, but the expectation of receiving the barest simulacra of love, the magic of pushing a car around or hugging something soft, of being just an innocent child, was enough to sustain him the whole year. The day was beginning to break now and the same trepidation crossed his chest. Christmas magic was coming, he had something his father could never take from him between his arms, and love was not a simulation anymore…

“Hello, cowboy,” Eliot mumbled next to Quinn’s ear. “Thank you for the ride…”

Quinn smiled and felt the warm climb to his cheeks. Love was not a weak ersatz anymore... 

“You have been quiet and still for almost an hour,” Eliot commented and put a mug of hot cocoa in front of Quinn before sitting by his side. “If you weren’t picking chocolates from time to time, I would peg you for decoration.”

The day was still dark, Quinn studied Eliot’s reflection. He was dressed from jeans to jacket, stunningly good looking. His capable and strong hands were wrapped around the cup. Quinn picked up the box and silently offered Eliot one of his advent chocolates. 

“I was thinking, wandering back on my memories, sort of speak.” Quinn began as soon as Eliot put the piece of candy inside his mouth. “I don’t know if I’ll ever fix this depression… I don’t know if I’ll ever get healthy again. But I love you and, knowing you are there for me, keeps me going…”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“I suppose I was returning your colorful ‘thank you for the ride, cowboy!’ and failing in the process.”

Eliot nodded and sipped his cocoa. Then he stood up and took the keys from his neck to free one of the sliding doors.

“Come,” Eliot invited, letting the cold air in. “Let’s watch the daybreak.”

Quinn shook his head and picked up the mug.

“Sit here with me,” Quinn made his counter-offer and spread the blanket. “We can watch it from here.”

Eliot sat on the floor and Quinn arranged the blanket around them. They sipped hot cocoa, with their eyes on the horizon. Silence and beauty…

“Merry Christmas, Quinn,” Eliot wished and placed something on Quinn’s leg as soon as the first light shone over the Vltava river. “Don’t argue: You’re on the nice list for once…” 

Quinn put down his hot cocoa mug and picked the box. At least, Quinn thought, Eliot had the good sense of making his gift small. Then he noticed the wrapping paper, the expensive brand didn’t go unnoticed, but the thinning of the paper in the corners spoke of how long this expensive gift had spent inside Eliot’s blue-collar clothes. Without any hurry, Quinn unwrapped the box and peered inside. The box contained a set of onyx and mother of pearl cufflinks, a shirt collar tie pin, and a tie pin clip. The set was stunning, practical, and, above all, easy to match. Eliot had thought this through. 

“You had to have it your way, don’t you?”

“We can change them if you don't like them.”

With a huff, Quinn got up, dropped the box inside his pocket, and walked inside the apartment. Eliot barely had time to mutter a protest before Quinn reached the closet of his pole-dancing practice room. By the time, Quinn returned to the tree, Eliot was standing and looking sheepishly at him.

“You will forgive the lack of wrapping paper,” Quinn said and extended the black soft case that contained his gift. “Merry Christmas, Eliot.”

Eliot’s eyes grew big and excited. Quinn knew right there that Randy wasn’t lying. His hands were trembling when he picked up the case and his thank-you kiss was hurried. Eliot sat on the couch and pulled down the zipper. The gleeful exclamation that left his lips made Quinn smile. While Eliot made a bunch of comments that made no sense for Quinn, Quinn picked up the blanket, the hot cocoa mugs, and snuggled on a corner of the couch with Fair Prize. 

“Is this a hint that I should disguise myself as a traveling busker?” Eliot asked while he tuned the guitar.

“You can leave it here,” Quinn said, sipping from the mug, “and play as much as you want when you visit.”

“You didn’t need to buy me a guitar to make me visit you.”

“Don’t be silly…”

Eliot chuckled and plucked the strings. They shared the notes of Silent Night and the cold wind during Christmas morning.

“Hey…” Eliot called out when he finished the song.

“What is it?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Karlovy Vary?”

“Definitely,” Quinn said and sipped the last of his hot cocoa. “At this moment, the only thing I want is to go to bed and take a nap with Fair Prize. In fact, I can’t think of anything that would please me more than to sleep from here to the next year.”

“Well, if that would please you…” Eliot said with a shrug and played some more.

Quinn nodded, placed his mug on the coffee table, and snuggled under the blanket. Eliot stopped playing to fiddle the keys of his new guitar. Then he let it rest against the couch.

“I need your help.”

“Ask.”

“Can you make a call?” Eliot asked and got up. He took something out of his jacket. “I need to cancel this…”

Quinn extended his hand to take a printed paper. It was written in Czech and, after a quick scan, Quinn felt like he had a rock stuck inside his gut. A booking to spend five days in an Executive Suite at the Imperial Hotel in Karlovy Vary. Full board, five spa sessions, all-inclusive. Quinn had heard of the hotel and it’s hot mineral water pools. 

“I got it a month ago. A salesperson sat with me and offered me a huge discount. It was sensible at the moment, but if you rather stay at home…” Eliot made a pause and took another piece of paper from his jeans this time. “Please call this place too.”

Quinn practically snatched the paper from Eliot’s hand. A reservation for an hour of a spa treatment marked for couples.

“I found it funny that someone wanted to dip their balls in hot beer with unfettered access to beer from the tap. Since it’s low season, they threw it as a gift!”

“Eliot…” 

“Oh, no! Don’t worry,” Eliot pleaded with a mock concerned expression. “I know you are tired. I understand that you rather curl in your bed with your teddy bear and take care of your health…”

“ _To je pěkná píčovina!_ ” Quinn exclaimed and he jumped from the couch.

“I also understand if you are too tired to help me with the call,” Eliot concluded and closed his arms to protect the booking reservation from Quinn’s grasp. “Don’t worry. I’d rather lose the reservation. A couple of thousand euros won’t hurt my bank account!”

Quinn threw a feint, a weak punch. Eliot smiled and tried to swat the blow away, Quinn saw his chance and held Eliot’s hand, put force on the thumb, forced Eliot's wrist to bend. Eliot’s smile disappeared when Quinn kicked his knee, twisted his arm behind his back, and slammed his face on the couch. Quinn felt his breathing ran through his nostrils and forced himself to calm. Placing boundaries should be a firm, but clear action.

“Listen to me, pal, and listen well because I’ll only say this once,” Quinn said with a menacing tone. “You are out of your mind if you think I’ll turn my nose at a whole week in the lap of luxury…”

“But...” Eliot tried to interrupt and to recover his vertical. Quinn’s reaction had taken him by surprise.

“Kindly, let me finish my point,” Quinn admonished and kept the pressure between Eliot’s shoulder blades. “You are going to take me to Karlovy Vary. We are going to redeem all those sensible purchases you made. I’ll do my best to show my appreciation, however, if you dare to repeat this kind of stunt around me, you will force me to reconsider this whole affair.” 

Eliot nodded and Quinn let him go. Quinn had to take a couple of steps back to try to make sense of his own reactions. Maybe he still had to work on being stripped of his gifts… Eliot sat on the couch and looked at him for a long time.

“Your dear old dad…?” Eliot asked in the end as he moved his shoulder to check it did not hurt. Quinn forced himself to remain expressionless. “Nevermind. Just to get it straight.” Eliot extended his hand toward Quinn. “Are we going to Karlovy Vary?” 

Quin took Eliot’s hand and nodded. Eliot gave it a small pull and Quinn allowed himself to be drawn to the couch.

“And we are going to take full advantage of the spa?”

“I’ll even sit in hot beer for you,” Quinn promised and put his knee on the couch next to Eliot’s leg.

“And are we going to be lazy for the whole seven days?” Eliot asked again and let go of Quinn’s hand to cup his butt and pull him into his lap. “I’m gonna have teddy bear-free snuggles?”

“Strange way to ask to be the little spoon…” Quinn commented as he settled on Eliot’s lap.

Eliot squirmed in place and looked around with discomfort plastered across his face. His breathing rate increased slightly: a panic reaction. Quinn cupped his cheek to direct his gaze to Quinn’s face.

“I’m not used to being this transparent,” Eliot confessed to the feeling with an embarrassed smile.

“You are not,” Quinn comforted him, wrapping his arms around Eliot’s shoulders. “I’ve got the privilege of knowing you a bit better than the rest of the world.”

“Thank you for the beautiful Christmas gift.”

“You are the one paying…”

“I meant ‘your awareness’,” Eliot clarified and closed the space between them.

“It was my pleasure,” Quinn replied and crossed the last stretch.

They locked lips as the morning began to cover Prague. Eliot was there, Christmas morning still had magic, and love, despite its challenges, was real.


End file.
